


The Room of Doors

by curtailed



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, The Order of the Stick
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - A Song of Ice and Fire Fusion, general AUs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:34:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25565968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curtailed/pseuds/curtailed
Summary: Where the Order has to get themselves out of multiple AUs.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 9





	1. Room of Doors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some weird collection of AUs that I wanted to write in my spare time

"I'll make this clear." Roy kicked the door shut harder. "We're in a room with over a million doors, but if we go back the way we came from -- "

"Then we'll get killed horribly by Team Evil," said Haley, pouring out stray water from her boot. "What's your point?"

"We can't just go running into a bunch of AU rooms to escape!"

"I offer an alternative solution," Vaarsuvius said. "Yes. Yes, we can."

"No."

"Yes."

"No way."

Haley sighed, turning to face Elan. "Sweetie, what do you think?"

Elan frowned a little, as he often did when he thought a bit harder than his usual parameters. "Well, we might run into copyright laws -- "

"This is AO3, not Robot Chicken! I think we'll live."

Elan smiled brightly, even as Roy seethed in the corner. "I guess so. I mean, come on, Roy! We've did it before with the Stick Tales."

"Which is exactly why I'm not planning on doing it again -- "

The door shook violently, and black smoke hissed out from the wood. Roy swore loudly when the tip of his boot caught on fire, scuffing it furiously against the ground until the flame went out.

"Are you _now_ more receptive to my idea?"

"...I still need a majority vote." Roy gestured at Durkon and Belkar. "What do you guys want?"

"As long as it's not Lord of the Rings," Belkar said, doing his best not to prod at a bloodied toe. "I am _not_ slugging through a hundred miles of sweaty hell just to drop some ring in some evil creep's eyeball."

"Durkon?"

"Have you heard of Once Upon A Time?"

Roy avoided commenting on the surprising absence of Durkon's accent in font. "I don't see what this has to do with -- "

The door shuddered, groaned, like someone had thrown a ton against its surface. It couldn't hold for much longer. 

"As long as it's not that," Durkon finished. "The dwarves there grow in _eggs._ "

"I reeally don't think you're going to be -- "

The door burst in a spray of wood and metal, the resultant screech sounding as painful as a saw against stone. Roy's first instinct was to go for his sword and swing, but Xykon floated in almost relaxedly, the whole air simmering with energy. Behind him emerged a one-eyed goblin in a tattered red cloak, and a mass of shadows only distinguishable by glowing yellow eyes and a red umbrella.

Roy didn't have to yell _run_ to mean it.

"Go, _go!_ Get to a door!"

"But what if -- "

"We'll wind up at the same place! Just _go!_ "

"I'd go for Adventure Time, if I were you," Xykon said casually, even as a meteor of fire erupted from his fingerbone. Roy bit down the shout of pain and grabbed Belkar by the collar, trying to ignore the pain that rushed up his back. V and Haley went through the door first, the former pelting a single Disintegrator Ray at the lich. It missed, striking the wall instead, punching an enormous crater into the stone. It was a gamble now; if they stopped to turn back, they would all be slaughtered. Faster, Roy thought, watching with a twinge of relief as Durkon stumbled into the open doorway. A Fireball struck Elan full in the face, but the bard somehow managed to stagger to his feet, groping for the door frame.

"Belkar, get Elan in."

For once, Belkar didn't question Roy's orders. Without a word, he ran into Elan's legs, knocking them both into the doorway. Roy took a deep breath, watching Xykon near him with deadly surety.

"Not a fan of the show?"

"The show's fine." In his mind's eye, he could almost _see_ the pulse and fluctuation of magic, the way the dweomer combined with the very molecules of air. Timing. It was all about timing. "You're not."

He'd really need to work on his one-liners later.

Xykon shrugged, his hand lighting up with something soulless, something draining, deprived of life --

 _Energy Drain. He's using Energy_ Drain.

One step. Two steps. Three, and he could count the lich's ribs if the robe hadn't been there. One more. Redcloak glanced up, his own spell readying in his hand, and the Monster's eyes widened. They knew. They knew before Xykon did.

Roy swung the sword down, in the exact pattern his grandfather had taught him. _Connect with the apex. Transform the energy into the particles around you._

" -- Drain?"

Clean. A clean manuever. 

Cut, slice, thrust. Knock him back. It wouldn't kill him at all -- it was nowhere even close to hurting him. Roy didn't have to. He ran back to the door, praying that he could make it -- 

"What the hell was that? Lightning -- "

If he didn't make it, he would die where he stood.

Roy lunged, as hard as he could, through the doorway. The lettering on the wood briefly glimmered at him --

_A Song of Ice and Fire_

and the door disappeared after him, even as he fell -- fell into some void, some gaping abyss, caught between the medium of time, hurtling to an entire other universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up: A Song of Ice and Fire


	2. A Game of Sticks - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greenhilts = Starks  
> Belkar = Jon  
> Shojo = Robert  
> Mr. Scruffy = Ghost

Sometimes, Roy thought, the universe gave the worst deck of cards possible.

One moment he had been falling through an abyss, unaware of where even gravity oriented him, and the next second he was crumpled on a bank of snow. The cold struck him first; ice clung to his palms and --

_armour?_

as he tried to get his bearings. His head swum a little, trying to focus on his surroundings.

A forest. He was in a fringe of some forest, with dark pines crowding around him, their pointed leaves dripping in half-melted ice. As he watched, cold drips slid down the whorls of bark, joining the snow. When he exhaled, shakily, his breath misted in a white cloud.

"Roy!"

 _An AU. Right._ He flexed his hands, checking what had changed. His armour -- it was no longer the cobalt blue, but instead something plain and blue-grey, almost an iron tone. His sword was still the same. Roy breathed a sigh of relief, sliding it out of its straps and resting his hand on the hilt.

As long as he had his sword, it would be okay.

" _Roy!"_

 _Dad,_ Roy thought in confusion. Just as the name appeared in his head, he spotted a figure crossing over a snow bank. It was his father, old and alive in the flesh.

"You just wandered off without a word," Eugene snapped, robes dragging after his feet. Roy stared up at him blankly. "And you -- playing with your sword _again?"_

It had been so long since he had seen his father alive, although Eugene didn't have a noticeable alteration from what Roy had seen of him in Celestia. Eugene crossed his arms and glared down at his son. "The _one time_ I asked you to not go away, and this is what I find. Amazing, Roy. Really."

"Sorry," Roy said, not as sincerely as his father would have hoped. He stood up, brushing stray snow from his belt. He had to find the others, then, although he wasn't sure how. How much did magic work here? "Still, Dad, I guess I'm glad to see you alive. Could you help me find my -- "

"Alive?"

Roy frowned. "Well, you _are_ aware that you were dead before, right?"

"...what?"

"Up in Celestia." Roy vaguely gestured at the clouds; they were laden dark grey, as if they would start snowing anytime soon. "Come on. Remember the deva, or all the scrying, or..." he trailed off at Eugene's blank expression. "Your illusion? In Shojo's throne room?"

"Son, what the hell are you talking about?"

Crap. If Eugene didn't have memory of what had happened in the real world, then...Roy paused in his words, trying to shrug off the cold. The cold. It shouldn't mean much to him if he had kept his HD, unless...

"Dad, are you still a wizard?"

Eugene stared at him as if he had grown a second head. "Son," he started slowly, like he was speaking to a toddler, "I think that you'll need to rest when we get back to Winterport."

"What? Winterport?"

Eugene sighed. "I've always predicted you'll crack one day, but I didn't expect for it at this _exact_ moment. Wizards? Celestia? Scrying? What am I, some lunatic from Asshai?" Eugene cursed something under his breath and headed off.

Roy followed him, trying not to feel annoyed. So the world didn't have magic, then, or at least not the way he understood it. He had noticed his father hadn't refuted the "illusions" part. Maybe he could still find a way to Send to his other members, assuming that he could find Durkon or V. A group of people were clustered around a frozen stream; even from this distance Roy could make out a short, halfling silhouette, who was busy skidding stones across the ice. 

He didn't want to admit it, but relief crashed through his veins at the sight of Belkar. Belkar glared up at him from under a dark green hood as he drew nearer.

"Roy," he snapped, and it took Roy a moment to realize his cat was absent. "Can you give me an explanation on why the freaking hell we're -- "

"Shh!" Roy lowered his voice. "Okay, I'm not sure what's going on, but we're in a complete different world altogether. We're lucky to even have a pair of us together."

"Oh yeah, a huge relief. Stamp it on a medal, will you?"

Roy didn't recognize the other people, who were now conversing with Eugene. They began moving slowly along a dirt path, threading through husked-out brambles and trees. "Do you know what we're doing?"

"What? No! How am I supposed to know?"

"Okay, that's fine. That's fine. We just need to -- " Roy glanced down at Belkar, and blinked. "I -- you're younger. Like, a _lot_ younger."

"Wow, thank you asshat, I didn't notice until I saw my rod size. You're not one to talk."

He _was_ younger too, Roy realized, twisting his arms and testing out his muscles a bit. Older than Julia, younger than his true age, maybe Elan's age -- he rubbed a hand along his scalp. There was still a fine smear of hair. He needed to shave it off as soon as he could. The ruins of a castle came into view.

"First priority: we don't need to get anyone suspicious." Belkar grunted in agreement. "We need to find a caster, ASAP. Preferably Durkon, if the gods are still the same here."

"How would we know that? We can't just go asking around."

"That's why we need to play along. Like - " Roy made a face. "Apparently, my dad and I live in somewhere called 'Winterport.'"

"Weren't you born in Cliffport?"

"I mean, yeah." Snow crunched under their boots. "I still don't get what we're doing here. Are we doing patrol duty? If we are, then why's my dad -- " he broke off as Eugene walked up to him, his expression severe.

"Your sword," he said, when Roy looked at him in puzzlement. "I don't have all day for this."

"No offense, Dad, but...why do you need my sword?"

"What's a dad? Why do you keep calling me that?" Eugene stuck out his hand stubbornly. "It's for the Watch's deserter. Your greatsword, son. Hand it over."

Reluctantly, Roy slid it out of its straps and handed it over. It felt heavier than what he was used to, but the muscle memory still lingered in his arms and spine. Eugene grunted under its weight, his hands unfamiliar with bearing a blade. Roy glanced near the castle -- a thin, pale man missing an ear was crouched on the grass, hoary and stooped in black greasy rags in the snow. Something about the dull fear that emanated from his face made Roy uneasy.

"What's he doing?" Belkar hissed at Roy's side. Eugene lugged the sword over to where the one-eared man knelt. In the wane light, the edge of the sword seemed to ripple black.

"In the name of Shojo of the House Jo, the First of his Name, King of the Demihumans," and Eugene slowly raised the sword. Roy didn't process it right away -- "Lord of the Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eugene of House Greenhilt, Lord of Winterport and Warden of the North, I sentence you to _die."_

"Wait, shit -- _what?!_ "

Instinctively Roy started forward, and even Belkar went wide-eyed -- but the sword fell faster, cutting through the man in one clean, swift stroke.

Roy didn't hesitate; he was already puking in the grass, but the image of blood spraying across the snow burned in his memory.

.

.

.

In his limited capability, Belkar felt slightly sorry for Roy as the latter finally finished wiping the vomit from his mouth. It wasn't really his business, anyhow, not when he was wearing damn shoes and --

_Mr. Scruffy!_

He needed to find his cat. He thought of Mr. Scruffy, alone in the dark and underfed, and it made him want to reach for his daggers. He still had them and Bloodfeast in a bag, thankfully, even if all of his other magical items were missing.

Roy was still griping about the dead man on the walk back -- "holy crap, my dad just beheaded a man. Holy crap."

"And?"

"And - and - in what world does that happen? All the man did was desert his post. At least give him a trial or something!"

Belkar rolled his eyes. Bloodfeast squirmed a little; he petted the fabric, trying to calm the lizard down. "Are you actually surprised? You said it yourself; we're in a completely different world. What'd you expect?"

"I -- "

"Lawful people," Belkar groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his gloved hands. "Your dad probably follows the laws _here,_ then, instead of our D&D ripoff. He even said all those fancy names."

"I...gods." Roy rubbed his temples. "Let me guess: people probably have trial by combat as well."

"I'll bet pieces on that if I had any."

The snow treaded cold and fragile under Belkar's soles. His steps were quieter than the rest -- almost soundless -- leaving only shallow imprints along the bank. If Mr. Scruffy was anywhere nearby, it wouldn't be easy to find him amongst all the snow. He scanned the ground for paw prints. 

_Male human steps -- beaver tracks --_

_There!_

"Lord Greenhilt, your bastard son is wondering off." Roy's eyebrows raised at that, but he watched Belkar drift off from the group, following along a line of dark green weeds. Eugene frowned.

"Roy, go after your brother."

At _that,_ Roy almost choked -- he swallowed it down, grateful to turn away from his father. He needed time to process the image of his father with the dead man. He just needed to --

"Belkar! _Belkar!_ Wait up!" He ran, trying to clear his head. A shaft of sunlight broke beautifully from the clouds, making the snow crystallize and glimmer. Belkar was tracking along the frozen riverbend now, half-limping from the discomfort of his shoes.

"What is it?"

Roy's own question was answered a millisecond later. The smell hit him first; similar to the pungent strike of blood, it was of flesh and bone deceased long ago, covered in a layer of rime. It was the size of Hinjo's dog, or maybe even larger; a vaguely, wolflike shape lying in the drift, with filmed eyes staring blankly back at him.

"Damn," Belkar said, pointing at the --

 _Direwolf,_ a voice whispered in Roy's head. He wasn't sure where it came from.

\-- at the direwolf's neck. Deeply lodged in its throat was a broken tine of an antler, coated in blood.

"Okay," Roy said slowly, the implications sinking in. "That's a nasty mess, but I don't know why you're so interested in them. Hinjo has his own --"

Belkar rolled his eyes again. "No, I don't give a crap about the direwolves. I just thought I heard..."

Without further ado, he sunk his hands into the direwolf's body. Roy cursed at that, jumping away from the jettison of blood, but then Belkar pulled and wrenched, planting a boot on the bloodied fur, and tore out --

"Mr. Scruffy!!" Belkar's face broke out in a genuine smile. "You're alive! He's alive!"

"I can see that." Belkar's cat was coated all over in blood, but Belkar couldn't care less -- he hugged the feline close to his chest, cradling it like one would with a baby.

"Great. We found your cat." Roy glanced back at the direwolf's corpse. "Don't you think..."

"Hm?"

"Don't you think the direwolf looks...weird? Like, I don't know, its stomach is way larger than it's supposed to be." He paused for a moment. "Maybe it was pregnant?"

"Who cares?" Belkar started on his way back to the path, the voices of the group already coming into hearing. "It's not like direwolf cubs are important or anything."

"I guess you have a point," Roy conceded, following after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so it was way harder to plan out the story than to write it. 
> 
> Heads up on the ASOIAF AU - it only covers the first 3 books, and not even all of them either. A lot of characters and plotlines were mashed up together, and some were outright dropped. There's just not enough OOTS characters to fill in ASOIAF's larger roster. So if you were looking forward to...let's say the Greyjoys, or the Martells, or most of Essos, or a lot of other stuff, then sorry about that.


	3. A Game of Sticks - Part 2

"Fyron's dead."

Apparently, Roy thought, he lived in a _damn_ castle - it almost rivaled Azure City's in size and scope, all rigid stone and iron emerging from the snow. He didn't know the faces, didn't know how to process the people bowing at him as he walked, didn't know _anything_ \- and yet here he was, cleaning the sword in a living room while his father and mother talked in the corner.

 _Winterport._ It did look a bit like Cliffport, if he squinted -- there was a faint sense of familiarity along the individual turrets, like an old friend returning for dinner. The library reminded him a bit of his father's wizarding school.

And most of all, the people in the home were still the same; Julia had glared up at him from a pile of papers, and Eric -- and Roy's heart had almost stopped at seeing him -- was barely a toddler's age, holding out a handful of leaves he had found at the bathing pools. The overwhelming feeling of tears threatened to choke Roy.

Maybe this world wasn't as bad as it seemed, he had thought as he had -- seemingly out of nowhere -- embraced his little brother, trying not to cry.

Still, now Roy glanced up from his seat, a sudden sense of ominousness settling over him. His father was an asshole through and through, and he had heard of Master Fyron's tale twice before, but the despair on his face made Roy pause at his cleaning.

"Fyron's dead," Eugene said again quietly, staring down at the paper in his hands. "Sara, he's dead."

"Eugene..."

"He's -- " Roy wondered if it was the first time he had ever seen his father truly, genuinely upset. "Oh my gods, he's dead. He's dead!"

"Eugene, there's more on the back of the -- " Roy's father sat down hard on the seat, his face buried in his hands. Sara patted him on the back reassuringly. "There's -- Eugene, it'll be okay, alright? Fyron was already old. I'm sure he died peacefully, in his sleep."

Roy wanted to leave. It felt like an immense invasion of privacy, seeing his parents in their own sacred bubble, but curiosity rooted him to his spot. He heard his father sob -- just a little, almost by accident -- and it felt like a dagger had pierced through his chest. 

Eventually, Sara spoke up again, her voice trembling. "Your friend's coming."

"What?"

"Shojo. He's coming. He'll arrive in two days."

Roy wondered if Shojo knew about the worlds as well; it wasn't likely, really, but it was well worth an attempt. Then the question trickled into his brain -- _why is he coming here?_ \-- but before he could ask, his mother was speaking again.

"He's bringing the entire royal family."

 _Royal family._ Roy frowned, letting the motions of his hand ground him. As far as he knew, only Hinjo was directly related to Shojo in any way, and Miko had served as an honorary cousin. _Miko. Is Miko coming?_ He hadn't even known when she died.

"Roy."

Roy glanced up, pretending he hadn't been eavesdropping. None of his parents bought the act. 

"We're going to need to prepare the castle for Shojo's visit." His father had recovered from the intense moment of grief, but a slight weariness still made wrinkles bracket his eyes and mouth. 

.

.

.

"...and I can't have you trying to attack her," Roy finished, sitting down heavily in the stables.

Unsurprisingly, Belkar had taken to the animal pens. He was now perched on the edge of the wooden roof, Mr. Scruffy napping contently on his shoulders, and he had taken to shaving his feet-hair with the edge of a dagger. Roy decided not to inquire.

"You didn't say I _can't_ kill her."

"Let me rephrase this. You attack Miko, and we'll lose _every chance_ we have to contact Durkon. What if he's with them?"

"With the royal family?" Belkar snorted. "Gimme a break. Wasn't there a whole _arc_ about him and his mom?"

Roy bit back any unwelcome comments. "Did you get any info?"

"Yeah, because _some_ of us aren't royal heirs." Belkar jumped down onto the ground, snow flying in little chunks, somehow not disturbing his cat from his sleep. "I've been asking around if there's any info on some uptight, pointy-eared snoot, but they look at me like I've got three eyes. Ears isn't in the game here."

Roy's spirits sank at that. Vaarsuvius was distinctive; if they were a resident of whatever empire Shojo ruled, the purple hair and eyes would at least make them a source of _some_ gossip. "Elan? Haley?"

"I didn't ask yet. There's too many people that share their features."

Blonde and ginger wouldn't be much of a mark, Roy had to agree. _Durkon. I have to hope one of them is with Shojo._ "This is a disaster," he muttered, settling down on the ground next to Belkar. Then he remembered that he didn't have immunity to snow here, especially as the cold seeped quickly into his pants. He hastily stood back up, ignoring Belkar's sniggers. "We don't know how large this place is. We don't know how to contact any of our friends. And the worst thing -- "

He took a breath.

"We don't know if Team Evil followed us here."

"Not to rain on your happy parade," Belkar said, "but I think a skeleton and a green dude walking around would _probably_ draw a bit more attention."

"That depends on if magic works here." Eugene had refuted most of the claims, but the possibility hadn't been ruled out yet. And if there was anything about magic that Roy truly knew, it was that it was utterly unpredictable and popped up like an unwanted fungus. "If they could make illusions, they could hide out for years here without anyone noticing."

"So what's your plan? Knock everyone unconscious and hope the thing leaches off?"

"Illusions still work even after the caster is out, smartass."

"News flash, Roy," Belkar said smugly, "we're in a _different world._ "

Roy groaned. 

"But anyways," Belkar hopped up on the low-rise stall door; even here, he couldn't resist jumping around despite being physically improbable -- "let's say Durkon is with Shojo and Samurai Jill. What do we do? We can't just bust out here, since you're all nobility and everything."

"We'll need to find the other three, then."

"Yeah, you just mentioned that." Belkar frowned. "When are they getting here, anyway? Two days? Three?"

Two days passed by slowly. If adventuring had taught any deep life-lessons for Roy, besides waking up ready to fight or tuning out Elan's babbling sleeptalk, it was that he could do tasks well. The whole castle had bustled into activity, with wagons and horses drawn and the hearths cleaned out and every rug furnished with new covers. Eugene had stared blankly at Roy as the latter tried to clean out a firepit.

"What are you _doing?_ "

Roy pointed at the firepit.

"You're the heir of Winterport, Roy, not a servant." 

Crap. Roy wondered if his phantom self -- or whatever history the place conjured for him -- had done labour as well. It didn't seem right; he had gotten used to doing his own thing with his own hands, and putting out the fire had been a nightly ritual in Girard's desert. Too often he'd wake up with Belkar cooking possums for breakfast, which was a sight he definitely didn't need in front of his face.

"...right," he said slowly. _Blend in._ "It must've...slipped my mind." He glanced at the ash smeared over his palms. "Or my hands."

At night he explored around the castle, doing his best not to grimace when the servants he passed bowed to him. He wasn't used to it. Sure, he was the leader of his own team, but there was probably a difference between commanding over five people who could hand him his ass (or in Elan's case, try) versus having the power to ask people to clean his boots. It was distinctively uncomfortable, to say in the least. He chopped up wood and cleaned the horses, trying his damn best not to draw attention.

"When did you start to do work around here?" Julia had said at dinner. She had a book propped open in front of her plate. It was just Roy, her, Sara, and Eric in the corner, who was happily drawing shapes into his food.

"Did I not before?"

Julia snorted. "We used to compete who could be cooped up in the library more." She tapped her book. "I won, genius."

"Julia, stop antagonizing your brother."

"But he -- "

Roy stared down hard at his plate, wishing Shojo's arrival could be faster. Wishing he and Belkar and Durkon, and then Haley and Elan and V and anyone else, could just leave, head back to the world they knew. _This isn't real,_ he thought, staring at the pewter plate, listening to the scrapes of utensils and of Eric's delighted giggles. In another world, they had buried Eric, and Roy had sat at his grave until the sun had risen for the next day. It was a growing hollowness, like a hole being dug out from under his feet. 

"Roy?"

Back in the real world, Sara was gone too. Even his father. Julia was all that was left, and the possibility of losing her made Roy's heart leap in his throat.

"You alright, Roy?"

That was Eric; his tongue struggled to pronounce the words, but he had said them with an unbridled, cheerful curiosity. He beamed at Roy.

Roy ate his food slowly, letting the glimpse of another life wash over him, and did his best not to wish that it had been real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the gap. It's been a hell of a time cycling through all my fics...why I thought doing simultaneous ones were a good idea, I'll never know.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Drop a kudos/comment if you enjoy :)


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